Blue Moon
by H. S. Hines
Summary: Oneshot, complete. Seven's getting midnight visits from a member of the crew and thinks she's fallen in love. Does her visitor feel the same? femslash warning.


_Disclaimer: You saw it on Star Trek? Then I don't own it! Simple enough? Femslash content (I like that word) so if you don't like that you don't have to read another word since no one's holding a gun to your head. Unless they are, in which case, I'm sorry and to the gun-wielder: let him/her go and move on with your life._

Code: T/7.  
Rating: R/M  
Genre: Romance  
Feedback: Feed the muse!  
Original post date: March, 2001

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**Blue Moon**

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* * *

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_Before You Go… _

It was late in the night when the windows parted  
moonlight poured on the broken-hearted  
She came in from the star fire  
burning blood and love desire  
chased the tears from my pillow  
no more tears to drown or 'low  
Her arms to hold me naked stark  
Her lips to chase away the dark  
Her voice to make my body breathe  
Now promise that She'll never leave

Seven glared at the words in front of her. Were they enough? Could they ever be enough to express the intense emotions that she could never show? She clutched the padd, her hand shaking in trepidation.

B'Elanna had slipped into the Cargo Bay one night and found her crying in her alcove. She had been depressed for so long it seemed. Arms had found her in the dark, wrapped around her and were chased by B'Elanna's lips against her own. Seven's hands had fumbled in the places she had never before touched and B'Elanna had confessed how new it was to her, as well.

B'Elanna had deceptively soft hair, her skin was smooth and sweet, warmer than Seven's; almost to the point of burning. Everything Seven had ever thought about copulation was thrown out that night and replaced with nothing beyond B'Elanna. By the light of her alcove, she had found the dark beauty of her lover's embrace.

When she awoke in the morning, tangled in B'Elanna's arms, she had just lain there, watching the other woman breathe.

No, no words would ever be enough. But these would have to do.

* * *

Seven walked down the corridor, the padd clutched in her hand. She and B'Elanna had never spoken of their midnight activities, not even with each other. It was silent meet, silent part. She had no idea what had brought the Lieutenant to her quarters that night, nor what brought her back. All she knew, she had written into the poem that she clutched like a lifeline. 

Reading the padd in her hands, she wasn't watching where she was going and bumped into Tom Paris.

"Excuse me, Lieutenant," she apologized. He nodded and was about to pass her when he suddenly turned around.

"Seven?"

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Seven stopped and looked at him, honestly eager to be diverted from her task. Still unsure how it would turn out, she was nervous.

"Uh, well, I was wondering."

"Yes?" she asked when she saw that he required encouragement to continue.

"You're not seeing anyone are you?" Seven raised her ocular implant, hoping that this was not going where she was afraid it was.

"Why?" she asked, deciding that answer was fairly safe.

"Well, I was just wondering, if you weren't, if you would like to… ah, shit. Forget it. I know that it wouldn't work out, so I don't know why I was even asking."

"Why are you certain that we would be incompatible? Not that I am disagreeing with you, I am just curious." She quickly added the last part, afraid of 'leading him on.'

"Well, number one, I'm obviously terrible with relationships. Just ask B'Elanna. Number two, we don't really have anything in common." He looked down at the padd in her hand, not really seeing it.

"Then why were you going to ask?"

"Because you're beautiful, interesting, and intelligent. Which is number three on why it wouldn't work out. One of my rules of dating is: never date anyone smarter than yourself. I guess that's why B'Elanna and I didn't work out." He started to walk away, but Seven realized that he needed to be contradicted, so she complied.

"You are wrong." Tom stopped and turned to her. "One should not avoid dating a person just because they are more intelligent than they, though you are more intelligent than you give yourself credit for. You would never have passed the Starfleet Academy entrance exams if you were not intelligent. Your area of expertise just happens to differ from Lieutenant Torres'. Though I would agree that we are incompatible, I am not dismissing you for your IQ. Rather, you and I, as you mentioned, have little in common."

"Thanks," Tom said, beginning to feel better. "You know, I knew that your reputation was undeserved."

"Reputation?" Seven asked.

"Of being cold and heartless. Personally, I just figured you were just uncomfortable showing it, though I never said so. I am sorry for that."

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Because, even though we aren't friends, I should go with my instincts and I should have defended you," Tom answered. Seven felt confused, but warmed by this knowledge.

"Thank you," Seven said. Tom smiled, but Seven didn't return it. Instead, she inclined her head to acknowledge him and began walking away, only to run into a small man that she had not previously seen on Voyager.

She identified him as a member of the Dovari, a lupine race. His nose and mouth were elongated into a muzzle and he had dark markings on his face, similar to that of an Earth timber wolf, only on his skin. A thick, grey mane ran down on his face in a widow's peak and down his back to disappear under his shirt. The Dovari were trading with Voyager and had been off and on the ship for the past week.

"Watch where you're going," He snapped in a whining voice, not typical of his species. He was short and overweight for a member of his people, who usually prided themselves on their sleek, strong appearance. But he was obviously someone of import, as his Vulcan-shaped right ear was pierced with six ornate pins, a symbol of rank among the Dovari.

"I apologize," she said, hoping that he would leave her alone. The Dovari were known for being confrontational, but were usually good-humored. However, she had a bad feeling about this little man, who bore the rank pins of the equivalent of a human four-star General. He snarled, bearing yellowed, pointed teeth.

"You had better, you Borg bitch."

"Hey! Watch it," Seven heard from behind her. She had kept her eyes lowered, in deference to his rank and culture, but now she brought them up to meet his yellow eyes with her own blue ones. "There's no reason to be insulting over an accident." The Dovari General started to look at Tom, when he realized that Seven had met his eyes. He glared back in challenge and she locked her gaze, knowing that she could outstare him and that, if she did, she would become dominant to him, forcing his respect.

"What, is she your bitch?" He growled without looking at Tom. "The Borg whore?" He was baiting her, but she refused to take it. So it came as a surprise when he reached out to molest her. Such a surprise, that she didn't react until Tom's fist swung into view, connecting with the muzzle of the smaller alien. The General fell backwards and yelped. Then he stood and lightning-quick, he threw a punch back. It never connected. Seven caught his hand in her borg enhanced one and held it, crushing.

He howled in pain and fell to his knees before she let go. Her eyes flashed ice blue in anger and she contemplated tossing him out an air lock when she heard Tom telling her that he wasn't worth it.

"Whatever you're thinking, he isn't worth it, Seven." She looked at Tom and nodded.

"Perhaps you are correct, Lieutenant." She looked down at the confused wolf-like alien on the floor and said, "You should go to Sickbay and have our doctor examine you." Then she turned and stalked down the corridor.

"Hey, Seven, wait up," Tom called and she stopped. "Are you okay?" he asked as he caught up.

"Yes, Lieutenant, but please do not assume that I—"

"I'm not assuming anything, Seven. He was out of line. I just wanted you to know that if he tries to file charges against you, I'll back you."

"And if he files charges against you?"

"I expect him to. I don't care, I was right. I just wanted to make sure that he didn't hurt you."

"You saw that he did not assault me."

"He was going to, Seven. That's why I'm checking on you. I remember how upset you were when you thought you were violated, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay, considering that this time, it was almost real."

"Thank you for your concern, Lieutenant. I am… I will be all right." Tom nodded and started to walk away. "Lieutenant?"

"Yeah?" Tom asked.

"I was… never mind." She started to walk away, Tom stopped her.

"What is it, Seven?" She looked at the concern in his eyes and sighed, silently.

"I needed advice on a matter of a… personal nature."

"What kind of advice?" Seven put her hands behind her back and decided on the blunt approach.

"I have been having sexual relations with a member of the crew. However, we have not spoken of it and I was wondering if it would be appropriate for me to mention that I wish to discuss it."

"Seven, if you're having sex with someone, then you should feel comfortable talking to them about it. If you don't, then you shouldn't even be in a relationship with them."

"It is not my level of comfort that I am concerned for. And I am not sure that we are in… a relationship. I have written a poem, to bring up the subject." Seven looked down at her padd and noticed that her hand was shaking again.

"May I see it?" Tom asked, curious and hoping that the poem would divulge who had won Seven's bed and, it appeared to him, her heart. She held out the padd and he read it, shocked at the depth of emotion contained within it. "Seven, this is beautiful." He looked up at her. "My advice is: give it to her. Most likely, she's as scared as you are that you don't love her back."

"How do you know that she is in love with me?"

"Because if she's not, then she's a fool. And something tells me that you wouldn't share your bed with a fool." He handed her back the padd.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Please, call me Tom." Seven's brow raised.

"As you wish… Tom." He smiled and they went their separate ways.

* * *

General Ziman walked into Sickbay, dazed by the blonde Borg woman. He glared at the holographic doctor, not trusting someone he couldn't smell. He allowed the hologram to treat him, nonetheless. When asked how he had been injured, Ziman refused to answer. There was no reason to tell the hologram, after all, it was a simple test of dominance. There also was no need to mention that he had lost. 

The young human male had cheated, of course, breaking into their contest. But the woman had shown that she would have been able to defend herself, even if the pup had not interfered. So he was willing to acknowledge her dominance. But if the pup was her mate, he would have to challenge him. After all, he wasn't going to let a pup keep him from such a specimen of womanhood. Since his mate left him, he had been searching for a woman as perfect as she and had never found one.

Until now.

* * *

Nita followed the dark haired male who had offered to show her the ship. She liked his dark eyes, but his mane was too short and she was bored by his position aboard the ship. He was obviously trying to win her affection by the way that he made jokes and stood close to her. She could smell his desire. 

But she didn't like the military feel she received from him, it reminded her too much of her father. She flipped her own long, dark mane flirtatiously at him, enjoying the way it made him smell.

"This is the Mess Hall," he informed her, taking her into a room obviously designed for eating.

"Why would you call it that? Are you messy eaters? Also, it is more of a room than a hall." Harry laughed.

"It's just an old Earth term, from centuries past. I don't really know why it's called that, but we keep up the tradition."

"Tradition is good," she said, approvingly. She wrinkled her nose at the food that she was offered by the small, furry, yellow man in front of her. His disposition was obviously friendly, but he was offering her a noxious green substance.

"Could I tempt you to try some of my Nerellan Spice Stew?"

"This is our ship's cook, Neelix."

"No, thank you, Mr. Neelix," Nita said. "My people are carnivores."

"Oh! Of course, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult you." She smiled, pleased by his over-eagerness to be diplomatic. She herself had once been like that. Before she grew tired of the unappreciative bureaucrats. The door hissed open and another human male walked in. Nita didn't give him a second glance, as he was unremarkable to her. But when he walked up to them, she was forced to notice him.

"Hi, Harry. How's it going?" He frowned at the stew Neelix offered him and waved it away. "I'll use the replicator, thanks."

"This is Nita Ziman, the daughter of General Ric Ziman."

"I don't think I've met him," Tom said, offering his hand. "I'm Tom Paris."

"My father is conducting trade with your captain," Nita told him. Tom looked into her bright green eyes and smiled. Her muzzle was much less pronounced than the man he had met earlier and her mane didn't connect to her neck, either. The older man's mane had traveled all the way up under his chin and down to his chest. Her eyes were wider and she was much more attractive. "What is your position on this ship?"

"I'm the pilot," Tom answered, receiving a grin in return. Harry frowned. She had simply looked bored when he told her what his job was. He gave Tom a 'go away' look and Tom got the hint. "Excuse me," he said and walked over to the replicator, leaving Nita with Harry, who tried as hard as he could to win back his audience.

* * *

Seven set the padd down and walked to her station in Astrometrics. Unfortunately, after the incident with the Dovari man, she was too late to catch B'Elanna in her quarters and she felt that it would be inappropriate to broach the subject in Engineering. So she just went to work, hoping not to hear about the Dovari for the rest of the day, even though she knew that with the trade negotiations, that was unlikely. 

Despite the anticipation building in her every second of the day, she found herself unable to confront B'Elanna that evening, after her shift. Instead, she hid in her cargo bay and worried over what Tom had told her. The advice was sound, she just didn't know what to do with it. She did not want to terminate their late night encounters, but she desperately needed to know why they were happening and what B'Elanna felt during them.

She was unable to decide on a course of action before B'Elanna appeared. Seven caught her breath, a tremor going through her body. B'Elanna was wearing red lace pajamas that just barely covered what they were supposed to. Seven reached out and B'Elanna fell into her arms, their lips meeting. Seven pulled her away and looked into her eyes. B'Elanna stared back.

"Is this wrong?" Seven asked.

"I hope not," B'Elanna replied and took Seven's face in her hands, kissing her fiercely. Seven felt her fingers slide up B'Elanna's neck and slip into her hair, the strands separating to part between her fingers. She concentrated on the sensation, enjoying the texture and softness.

"Do you think I am cold?" Seven asked, searching B"Elanna's face for any hint of rejection. B'Elanna looked startled and concerned.

"No. Who said you were cold?"

"I have been told that I have a reputation for being 'cold and heartless.' "

"Reputations don't mean anything," B'Elanna said, destroying Seven's worries. Seven lifted B'Elanna so that the half-Klingon was straddling her. B'Elanna ran her fingers through Seven's hair, releasing it to spill down over her shoulders. B'Elanna gathered it in her hands and breathed deeply. " 'Touch my tears with your lips,' " B'Elanna whispered to Seven. " 'Touch my world with your fingertips… and we can have forever.' " Seven held onto B'Elanna and looked into her eyes.

They made love for hours before falling asleep, entangled in each others arms.

* * *

B'Elanna awoke the next morning, satisfied and rested. She looked at the slumbering form of the woman she had once despised and felt her hearts beat double time, in a murmur of emotion. She kissed Seven good-bye as she grabbed up her clothing. She slid the pajamas on and reluctantly left her sleeping beauty. She slipped through the halls to her quarters, unseen. 

Seven awoke to find B'Elanna gone, but with a feeling of peace mixed with anticipation for the night. She looked at the padd where she had written her poem and cursed having forgotten to show it to B'Elanna. She picked it up and renewed her desire to deliver it to the hot-blooded nighttime visitor before they met in a lovers' embrace again.

After cleaning up, she restarted her quest. She knew that B'Elanna would be eating breakfast at this time, so she set her destination as the Mess Hall. Within minutes, she arrived, only to find the place in an uproar. The General from the day before was facing off with Tom Paris, yelling something that Seven barely caught.

"You are not strong enough to hold her!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tom asked, obviously confused, dodging the knife weilding Dovari.

"The Borg beauty, of course." Seven raised her ocular implant at that. She had never had two men fight over her before and despite the interesting sensation it caused her, she had no desire for it to happen now. She walked towards the fray and watched the Dovari, trying to analyze his pattern of fighting. The knife came flying at Tom's head so fast that she almost didn't catch it in time.

Tom watched the blade sail through the air, his life passing before his eyes when it suddenly stopped a hairsbreadth from the point between his eyes. He followed the delicate hand holding it and discovered that none other than Seven of Nine had held it back from its deadly course. He looked at Seven and smiled.

"Thanks."

"You are welcome." She turned to the General and cocked her head to one side. "He is not my mate. He is, however, my friend and if you attack him again, I may be forced to damage you." With that, she placed the knife on the bar, for Neelix to hide away until Security could collect it. The Dovari fled the Mess Hall and Seven looked around. B'Elanna was nowhere to be seen. "Damn."

Tom turned, startled at Seven's mild expletive. He had never heard her swear before. He noticed that most of the crewmembers around him were staring at her and he decided to perform some crowd control.

"All right, show's over. Nothing more to see here," he said, shooing them away. They turned, chattering, back to their food and ignored Tom and Seven. "What is it?" he whispered to her. She looked at him.

"I was looking for B'Elanna."

"Why?" Tom asked, then noticed the padd in her hand. It all clicked into place for him. He expected to feel angry, but when he remembered what he had read the day before, he found no animosity inside him towards Seven. Instead, he felt angry at B'Elanna. Not for leaving him for Seven, but for not treating her better. "I think she's already left for her shift." Seven studied Tom for a moment.

"Are you angry?"

"Not at you."

"Because she came to me so soon after the dissolution of your relationship?"

"Because she isn't treating you with the respect you deserve." With that, Tom turned and walked out of the Mess Hall, having lost his appetite. Seven chased after him, worried that he might confront B'Elanna. Tom noticed her and stopped. "I'm not going to talk to her, if that's what you're worried about."

"It was."

"Well, don't. I may not agree with the way she's treating you, but I am not going to sabotage your relationship, either. It's not my place to talk to her, it's yours."

"You said yesterday that you believed my feelings were requited. Are you saying that you now believe you may have been incorrect?"

"No." Tom thought for a moment. "Maybe it is partly because I'm still mad at her for leaving me and for stringing me along the last month or so of our time together. I'll admit I'm still bitter about it. But I think it's because I'm starting to like you. I feel—protective. I can't explain why, but I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Thank you, Tom." Seven said, then walked down the corridor, to begin yet another day of work and trying to deliver her feelings—her heart—to her lover.

* * *

Nita discovered her father's shameful behavior and was just glad that her mother, Shan-cla was not around to see her ex-husband chasing around any female that moved. Admittedly, the Borg woman was strong and would hold a family admirably, but the way her father had behaved… 

_WHAM! _

She fell backwards as the man ran into her in his mad rush to be Goddess only knew where. She looked up at him as he extricated himself from the tangle of limbs they had become, and fell into his grey-blue eyes at once. It was the sandy-maned pilot she had met before. He apologized profusely for a moment, then fell on her, and in moments they were in one another's arms, learning the inner workings of each other's mouths with their tongues.

* * *

Seven watched as B'Elanna read the words on the padd. She had finally managed to get her alone to share the poem. Only, as she read it out of the corner of her eye, her voice made a tune for it, which she hummed softly while the brown-eyed woman read the words. B'Elanna looked up and locked eyes with Seven, falling into the bright blue orbs. Tears glistened on her cheeks as she spoke the words she had been wanting to say for weeks. 

"I love you, Seven."

"I love you, too, B'Elanna."

* * *

Kathryn Janeway looked at the two realationship requests on her desk, as well as the security report about the rampaging General Ziman, who had drunkenly stumbled into Engineering and fell two floors to the lowest level. He was recuperating in Sickbay, but it looked like the trade agreement was coming to an end. Not that Voyager wasn't now stocked with foodstuffs and energy supplies aplenty, but she had been studying up on the Dovari culture and had looked forward to visiting their homeworld. 

Perhaps she still would. Kathryn smiled when she read that one of the requests was from Tom Paris to have a physical relationship with Nita Ziman. The other, she found just as unexpected. It was a request for a marriage ceremony on Voyager, although, it wasn't for another few months.

Seven Torres? B'Elanna Hansen? Janeway chuckled as she tried the names out on the two lovebirds and then decided that this had been a very good trip indeed.

**The End**

_Notes: Okay, that's not even close to one of my best fics, but as you can see, it's old, I was young and inexperienced and yes, this has been edited to remove gratuitous sex—that's why there feels like there's a gap, because there is. Feel free to critique, but keep in mind I'm rather a bit past this stage of my writing and won't be fixing more of this story than I already did (yes, it was worse before). It's being posted for entertainment purposes only. "Before You Go" is an original work by me, as terrible as it is, I wasn't willing to rewrite it for this repost. Besides, there might be some people out there who like it, one never knows._


End file.
